


Peel the Scars From Off my Back (I don't need them anymore)

by Reiditandweep



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: AU, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Mild Gore, Okay so this might actually be my thesis on society and what a utopia looks like, Sort Of, There will be a dog, Wish Fulfillment, and vegetables, look there's a lot of fluff, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiditandweep/pseuds/Reiditandweep
Summary: "She has been thinking of this moment for eight years and she still doesn’t have an answer to this riddle."Akane tries to overthrow the Sibyl, needless to say it doesn't work out as planned. But sometimes failure is freeing in it's own way.
Relationships: Kougami Shinya/Tsunemori Akane
Comments: 17
Kudos: 34





	1. Prometheus

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to my Shinkane wish fulfillment fic that has been stuck in my head for years. I just want good things for these two but since this is Psycho Pass and they are who they are, it's going to take some exposition and some plot (conditions? idk I'm a STEM major not a poet) to get us there. So bear with me. 
> 
> I promise there will be a dog.

In between the shattered glass and the darkness, she remembers a story. By the light of the moon on the edge of the ocean, in hushed tones she first learned of the titan who defied the gods and created humanity from clay. The Greek titan who then stole fire from Zeus and gave it to the humans. True to the strange and common duality of the mind, he was classified from then on as both a trickster and a hero.

She scrunched up her nose, “If he’s the one they thought created mankind then why did they call him a trickster?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He bestowed freedom upon them, so how could they think so poorly of him?

“Because,” Kogami responded, “he defied their gods.”

“Their gods were being cruel,” she deadpanned, not quite getting the punchline.

His lips tugged into that smirk that she’s always been so enamored with, “Which is why he is also a hero.”

Bathed in the darkness of the city, she wonders, louder than the muffled shouting on the adjacent street, which one she is.

It is early morning, or perhaps late night on a chilly and wet July Thursday. Akane Tsuenemori has a choice to make; stay and face judgment from a justiceless system, or run. Neither option suits her, yet it is all that is laid out before her. 

She has been thinking of this moment for eight years and she still doesn’t have an answer to this riddle.

Before her, old friends and allies stand hurt and confused with weapons to add weight to what their resolve won’t. Her eyes find her old partners’ face, twisted in a severity she hasn’t seen in years. In another time, another paradigm, she would have laughed and pointed it out to him. 

_If you keep making that face it’ll stick like that, she wants to jest._

Ginoza looks just as conflicted as her, dominator in hand. Her actions must have been as much as a surprise to him as they are to her. Shimotsuki has more resolve, she always was stubbornly attached to Sibyl. Her hands don’t shake and her voice doesn’t waver when she shouts the system’s demands. 

The night is so oppressive. The city feels like the closed jaw of a beast. Every light blurred by the mist is somehow so sharp to her.

She has had eight years to prepare for this and yet she still feels like a spider on its back with three legs cut off. The city is breaking down outside them, fire and fists raging and glass breaking just beyond the alley they’re in. And yet, she is frozen here, prey staring at her hunters.

In the midst of her chaos, the dominator locks into safety mode and makes the decision for her. It’s funny, this appeal of not having to choose is exactly what put her in this position. The irony is not lost on her as she picks up her feet hastily and runs towards the mouth of the alley before the system has a chance to change its mind (which it will, it always will). Away from the lights, the sirens, the betrayal she heads, feet crashing against broken glass with breath just as jagged. 

She stumbles across a motorcycle near the edges of town and it takes all the strength left in her to not look back. 

~

Akane Tsuenemori, inspector, detective, traitor. _Is there even a name left for her anymore?_ She asks. Yet still, she continues her steps.

With desperation and grit, she stole the fire from the gods and gave it back to humanity. With despair and disbelief, she realizes, humanity never wanted it. 

Sibyl was never meant to fall, not by her hands at least. She had always assumed, always hoped, that knowledge of the truth behind the system would cripple faith in it. Ripping away it’s facade should have inspired a new justice system. Wasn’t freedom all anyone ever wanted? Her error, now she sees, is that this would never be possible in a society that had already willfully surrendered its free will. She was so _naive._

Each acknowledgment rips at her flesh. Yet still, she picks up her feet.

It’s been two days since she left. The motorcycle she had stolen brought her far enough out of Sibyl’s reach before sputtering out its resignation. The rest of her trek has been on aching feet and tired bones. Her feet are covered in blisters that soaked into her socks. The bottoms of her heels bruised and the pressure of her weight releases a dull and almost unbearable pain. Part of her wishes that her legs would give out and leave her drowning in the mud. But they don’t so she walks.

She doesn’t know where she’s going, just that it is somewhere that she can be. She tries to convince herself that such a place exists.

She worries about Karanomori, who she sought out for help with her mission in the early morning. Unnecessarily quiet, Akane asked if she could hack every channel, radio, TV, Holo and replace their programming with a single recorded message.

“Akane,” she set down her cigarette, face soft and upset, “just what are you planning here?” 

“Can you do it or not? I need to know if it’s a possibility.”

She took a moment, eyes locked with Akane’s. The inspector expected some hesitation from the woman, seasoned in the loss of close allies and friends. Yet she never doubted that the analyst would go through with her plan.

Karanomori picked up her cigarette from the ashtray and stubbed it out this time. “It won’t be easy. Whatever you have to say, it better do some damage.”

Now, miles away from the city, Akane hopes that it didn’t do so much. She prays for her friend’s safety, although she doubts the gods in power would allow such a thing. What Akane holds onto is Shion’s resourcefulness. It’s that thought alone that narrowly keeps the guilt from swallowing her whole.

A particularly rough and cold gust knocks into her. She tries to change her thoughts. She thinks back to Gino, shock and panic across his face as he realized just what she had done. It was an easy enough face to recognize, her bathroom mirror looked just as surprised. She remembers the naive idealism and blind faith she’d possessed when she presented herself before her constituents. It almost feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s such a painful wound. It’s hard to lose a piece of yourself, even harder to be ashamed by it. She takes a deep breath because that’s about all she can do about it now. Breathe, take a step, breathe, take another breath, try and rectify. 

A breath.

The sky is that pretty shade of grey that happens only when the sun is halfway down on an overcast day. The breeze, though chilly, rustles the tall grass she’s walking beside, creating a quiet symphony her turmoil had previously drowned out. 

Her feet ache like they did pushing into the dirt in that oat field all those years ago. She wonders if this is how Kogami felt after he killed Makishima. Would he have felt free or would he have been chained to his guilt? She certainly feels failure now, akin to that afternoon when his gun cracked through the landscape.

The sun goes down and she is tired like she had never been before. She has been running since before dawn. All she’s had to eat was a crumpled granola bar she had stuffed in her pocket. She hasn’t slept, hasn’t drank, hasn’t stopped since the motorcycle did. Her gait has been reduced to a stumble by the time the sky goes dark and her thoughts slowly cut in and out. 

She thinks of a hand on her shoulder and a crooked smile. Gravelly voice, blue eyes, unkempt black hair. She drifts to her grandmother in ash now, the warmth she provided before her bones went into flame. In flashes she sees Kagari, Masaoka, Gino, and even Shimotski. She goes back to him, though. Kogami. His white shirt and white bandages to the bit of blue trapped in silver irises to the black of his suit, hair, and the shadows on his face until the black consumes her and there is dirt beneath her lips.

~

She wakes which is a surprise to her. The sun files in through the nearby window and onto her exposed flesh radiating light back too bright to her eyes. There is a softness on her back and a soothing pressure at her front. Her first thought is that she really didn’t wake and that this is her afterlife.

She’s proven wrong when a short, stocky woman gently creaks open the door. 

“Oh, you’re awake, darling,” the woman says, relieved, as she crosses to her bedside. Akane weakly tries to turn towards her. “How are you feeling?”

Her mouth is suddenly dry. “Thirsty,” she manages.

“I imagine you must be, hold on for a minute I’ll go get you something.” Akane croaks out a ‘thank you’ between chapped lips.

While the woman is gone, she tries to rise to her elbows. Her limbs are heavy as lead and she falls back into the pillows for a few attempts. She finally wrestles herself to sit up against the bedposts right before the woman reenters with a glass of water.

Akane’s hands shake as she reaches for the glass and presses its cool surface to her lips. The water glides down her throat soothingly. She takes embarrassingly frantic gulps until the glass is empty and she looks back to the woman. 

“What happened to you dear? We found you face down on the side of the road this morning,” the woman pauses solemnly, and lowers her voice in unconscious caution, ”we thought you were dead.”

Akane takes a long moment. She has always believed in honesty, especially to those who have been kind to her. Honesty, like most of her virtues, isn’t a viable option right now.

“I was going to see my parents, but my car ran out of gas,” she decides on. She hopes her voice is raspy enough to not be recognized.

“Where were you coming from, dear?” The woman doesn’t believe her. Akane can tell, the cadence in her voice is too careful. 

“Tokyo.” she responds, not too quick and not too slow, “I fled once the violence broke out.” The best lies, she remembers, are those based in truth, “It was so terrible.”

The woman nods conciliatory. A faint beeping noise comes from beyond the door. “Ah, your breakfast is ready,” the woman explains, then leaves. Akane is on edge until the woman returns. The question of whether this woman will turn her in or not ringing in her mind.

The ringing stops when the woman returns to the room with a plate. “Here, eat up, you’ll need your strength,” She offers the plate over slow, careful that Akane’s shaking hands don’t drop it.

“Thank you.” Akane says with sincerity, “Honestly. I’ll be forever indebted to your kindness.” She picks up a piece of toast and then some grapes while trying not to look like a starving dog while eating them.

“That’s alright, dear. I am glad we were able to help you in time, my husband and I.” The woman quietly watches her as she eats. The silence is pressed with lingering questions. 

“What is your name, darling?” The woman finally asks.

Akane is silent as she turns downcast towards the crumbs on the plate. Exhaustion betrays her as emotion creeps from her eyes.

She thinks to a story told in hushed tones in the moonlight. In that rare moment of peace, Shinya Kogami looked to her and confessed, _“He reminds me of you”_

_“Who?” She asked ___

____

__

“I-” shoulders slumped and voice thick, “I don’t think I really have one anymore,” she replies, just loud enough to hear.

With more understanding than Akane still expected to find for her within Japan, the woman smiles. 

“Then I’ll call you,” she drawls, thinking, “Prometheus.”

Akane hears Kogami’s voice echo in the syllables. 

_Oh if you turn your hands to flame, the light will burn the same  
whether you just pass it through or if it’s what you’re meant to do._

\- Jocasta, _Noah and the Whale_


	2. Athens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mr. Kogami, what does this mean?” A student finally asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter is where the TW for gore comes in, if you want to miss it, don't read Kogami's dream))  
> (The timeline is now wonky, whoops. This starts before the first chapter, then moves into the middle of it timewise.)
> 
> Hi all, welcome back. Life looks a little different since we saw each other. I hope that you are all taking care of yourselves. It is okay to be stressed and anxious at any time but especially now if you're living in the states. Please take some time for yourself!
> 
> And please, help the BLM movement however you can. This can take on a lot of different forms including protesting if you're able, donating if you can, and if you can't do either of those you still have a voice in petitions and social media. Here is a youtube link to a video that is donating all proceeds to BLM and various bail funds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQ-HRJvabR4 (there are also a ton of great resources in the description, so give it a read!) And most importantly, educate yourself and others on the racial inequality that plauges this country. There are a lot of great solutions out there, we need to implement them!
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! And as always: there will be a dog

His lesson for the day was going well, the kids were attentive and more receptive to discussion than usual. He was making a mental note to keep this lesson plan for next year when someone burst through the door. 

“Mr. Kogami!” It's the new history teacher from down the hall Kogami recognizes. The kid holds himself up with the doorframe, disheveled and panting. Kogami regards him with skepticism. This could be nothing but a nuisance. Kuu, _Was that his name?_ is easily excitable and has been known to approach news with a high level of enthusiasm if he remembers correctly. This could be nothing more than a disruption.

When the kid catches his breath, he finally shouts, “Turn on the radio! The Ministry of Welfare station!”

Kogami stops breathing for a moment. It’s a jarring command, one that an earlier version of himself would have swallowed with ease. The Ministry of Welfare shouldn’t matter here. It shouldn’t, no, not here, not in this life. Back when he was akin to a fire, something like this would have exhilarated him despite his internal insistence that it didn’t. But that part of him is long gone. It disappeared along with the rough calluses on his hands. Now he’s older, softer, and worn. These kinds of things terrify him more than they ever used to fuel him. His chest moves out and then in one large shakey motion. The only indication to the masses that he’s having difficulty managing the chaos.

He focuses on the class, caught on the anxious looks of the kids. A protective stance sinks in, and old instinct has him worried about psycho passes that never existed here. For them, he will pretend to be calm, cool and collected.

“Hey, what’s all this about?” he asks. His tone is gruff but he still makes a move towards the dusty box in the corner. He’s trying to maintain his newfound normalcy, the one that everyone in this town existed in somewhat effortlessly.

“It’s Sibyl- it, well, they-” 

His hand briefly hovers over the knobs on the radio. Whatever lies beyond the box has the potential to shatter his peace. He flicks on the old technology in spite of the rushing in his veins.

He stops fiddling with the volume when her voice breaks through. His brain slows and stalls momentarily on the first thought that crosses his mind. _She sounds so goddamned strong and determined_ , just like he remembered.

“-asymptomatic. All this time, they’ve been deceiving you. Promising a fair and objective justice system courtesy of a computer program, meanwhile judging criminals and upstanding citizens while they themselves have committed heinous crimes.” 

His fingers worry the edges of the radio, trying to understand just what the hell was happening. He wishes he heard the first part, partially to hear more of her voice, mainly for clarity.

“Five hundred and seventy two criminals, claiming to be deviants from humanity, ‘criminally asymptomatic’, right under our framework, always judging, always in their best interest.”

The moment where he’s stuck on the sound of her voice is gone. It’s replaced with calculating analysis of her words. Threat assessment. He has a room full of _kids_ , innocent and kind before him. Maybe if he grips the radio hard enough, his callouses will grow back. 

“The Sibyl system is a lie, it’s a sham.”

Peace is dying and he doesn’t even possess the luxury of mourning it. 

“There is no code, calculating our safety. Only the minds of the arrogant people who only threatened that safety when they were alive.” 

_What is she saying? This can’t be right, can it?_ Yet he had never been one to doubt her. 

“The law, justice never meant anything other than power and a means to play God to them. The system protects itself first, and us only after that guarantee.” 

He vaguely registers the quiet roar from the students.

“This being said, justice is not up to any singular person to decide, myself included. The law is a community set of ideals that we share and protect. That is why I call upon the Ministry of Welfare to hold an honest election, where the people decide how they see best to protect and uphold the law.”

The transmission cuts off. Anticipation hangs heavy in the silence that follows. 

His eyes are on the black box before him, everyone else’s are on the back of his head, expectant. 

“Mr. Kogami, what does this mean?” A student finally asks.

He wants to be able to turn around composed, and answer. His thoughts are scattered in his brain, though. He can practically feel them colliding within the confines of his skull. The ugly truth, one that he always suspected but not like this, rattles around. Disbelief crashes against affirmation, fond memories of an inspector collide with bitter ones as an enforcer, and of course concern for her safety mixed with pure awe hits everything in its path. 

God, he could really use a smoke.

He so desperately wants to look them in the eye and assure them that they are fine. With alarming clarity, he finally registers that they really are fine. This news doesn’t bear the same weight to them as it does to him, the brave inspector, and all the others who once lived under Sibyl’s reign. 

The only peace lost in this room belongs to him. Retribution, he guesses.

He takes another deep, shaky breath and turns around, somewhat composed. He fixes on a point in the floor in the center of the room, and speaks.

~

That first day he took the radio back home with him. He struggled to carry it with him up the hill, the distance with the added weight hard on his bad leg. The radio is clunky and awkward in one arm and the other working overtime with his cane creating an insanely uncoordinated trek, that at one point finds him face first in the mud. Akane Tsunemori has always been the best motivator so he finishes the assent.

He stayed up chain smoking that night and every night thereafter, listening intently to any channel that mentioned the good Inspector. He _knows_ she is capable, but can’t help but worry all the same. 

He turns off anyone who claims that she is a liar, an enemy of the state, or unhinged. He can’t bear to hear such blasphemy, despite knowing that he’d have a better grasp on her circumstances with it. 

He’s been holding his breath until the elections. He wonders if she has been too, or if she’s just as confident as she sounded on that first broadcast. She’s only spoken twice after that, no doubt trying to lay low from Sibyl, despite the fact that it- they -had agreed to her challenge. His thoughts are constantly fixated on her. How she’s holding up, what she’s thinking, what her fall back plan is, if she even has one, lighting a flickering cigarette for each worry that surfaces.

He carries himself down to the school every day, but he doubts he’s really teaching anything.

~

The ceiling in his living room has thirty two spots on it. Four in the corner that he designated for books on a bookcase, five loosely above the coffee table where he actually keeps his books, three above the browning plant by the back door, and twenty surrounding where he lays on the couch below. 

They decided to keep Sibyl, and crucify Akane Tsunemori. 

It’s the fucking antithesis of justice. It is such goddamned blasphemy.

If he was still who he used to be, if his femur healed right and his hands were still rough he would kick open a revolution. Fight his way underneath the city, chaos and fire following him until he ripped apart the evil plaguing their society. If he had his way, she would be more than safe. He’d place her on a throne, to be worshiped the way he always thought she should be.

There is lava in his veins. Young volcanic instinct begs to let it spill from his heart and flow to the ocean, but his now weathered edges find the village too beautiful to destroy.

He will do nothing and he is heartbroken because of it. 

The weight of his heart drifts his body to unexpected sleep but not his mind. The cataloged blemishes above morph into freckles across her nose. Sunlight filters over her skin casting gold that her soul always emulated onto her being. She smiles, then laughs at something insignificant that he said. It perplexes him, how much credit she gives to him. She steps towards him and relief floods from his eyes. Blurily, he watches as his scarred hands reach for hers.

When he looks up, blood is crusted over her freckles. 

The hand he holds is suddenly cold. He tries to let go, but the rigid grasp of death forces his fingertips against bloated flesh. Her body is on the ground, the sun disappears over the horizon, turning everything a devastating shade of red. Her skin is no longer gold, but grey marred with deep crimson and ugly, dark purple. Parts of her intestine pour from a mangled wound in her abdomen and chunks of her liver litter the soil around them. Overhead, an eagle looms down from its perch. 

He jolts awake and retches over the side of the couch.

When he finishes, panting, cheek resting against the corner edge of the cushions, the room has a faint blue hue to it. The puddle of bile on the hardwood needs attention, but Kogami can’t bear to clean it just yet. He picks up his cane and heads for the ocean instead. 

There is a path beside his house on the hill that descends slowly around a deep crevice in the earth. It leads to a rocky shoreline that smooths where the water touches. All surrounding life is drenched in early morning dew on his hike. The air he breathes feels wet and cool, steadily easing the horror of his dreams. It is in reality’s nature to maintain space for hope, he remembers. Life still survives the violence of a typhoon. Disfigured stalks of wildflowers still stand to give way to sprouts.

The root of his hope is placed purely in her strength. Sibyl will not forgive her for revealing their sins, this much he is sure of. Those served by the system will likely raise no objections, although there are a sturdy few who might. He doubts that they will alleviate the danger placed upon her, however, he can think of ways that they would help. He prays to the crashing waves that Akane escapes.

She is capable, he knows her to be. He just hopes that she does not stay to face her fate. He begs her to defy her own nature and run. She could succeed. There would be panicked friends behind her, pushing her just beyond Sibyl’s plunging hand. A few thoughtful citizens with an innate rebellious desire to usher her out. She could find him once more too, if she’d like. He’d be here, on the sand watching for her ship. He likes to think that she would love the island and its hearty community.

There’s not much he can do to help that dream along, not directly anyway. 

He reaches the mouth of the path. The sun has risen a bit more, just enough to be reflected in its entirety in fluttering blue. No, he can’t wade out to her, he thinks. 

He sits on a rock looking out for a long while. There was a time that he believed people to be clever wolves, not dumb sheep. Japan’s decision does not fit within that paradigm and he cannot rectify their choice without believing the opposite. Yet, when he thinks to Akane and to this island, the students in his class, he can’t do that. 

Somewhere along a person’s life, he lands on, the person is taught to truly want freedom and all that it entails. They are told, no, they learn to appreciate the hardship that comes with thought and directing one’s own life. After reaching this point, they will seek opportunities for growth and accept the inevitable grapple with doubt. The island is illuminated with full daylight when he decides that this is where he has the chance to do something.

What happens to Akane across the sea is beyond his control. He cannot bring her to safe shores, but he can help her cause. His students are waiting up the hill for him to guide them. Sibyl’s ideologies won’t touch this island, because its people won’t have a need for it.

His leg aches the entire trek up the hill. The gnawing pain in his bones forces him to break occasionally on the way. He pushes through until he is sweaty and breathless outside his front door.

He cleans his vomit off the floor and prepares for school.

 _And you drag your holy horsecart_  
_in the sky when I wake up_  
_they say it's just the sun_  
_but I know that face_  
- _Gethsemane_ , Dry the River-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter that I finished and it's been sitting in my google docs relatively untouched for about a year (yes you heard right, a year). Honestly, it took me so long to post it because writing the next chapter has been so slow going. I get really distracted trying to rewrite stuff from other chapters (and write 600 words dedicated to the dog in future chapters lol). Anyways, I have actual talking points this time:
> 
> 1\. Kogami's leg: I knew pretty early on that I wanted him to have some sort of mobility issue. This is because I wanted him to parallel Akane in that they were both forced to alter their lives in major ways, that they had both lost something and had to come to terms with some harsh truths. I know that Kou had already fled the country before and all that but I also wanted him to settle and this is the only way I saw that happening. I full well acknowledge that this is a convenient use of a disability which is kind of sucky of me. I am going to try and write this as well as I can, but if you have any comments or suggestions I would love to hear them. I don't have experience with this kind of disability, but I have struggled with a chronic illness/ disability in the past and for the most part I am extending my emotional experiences, mainly going from active and fully able to suddenly being unable to do some things that were pretty important to me and how I coped. This is something that I don't want to mess up so please call me out if I need it or give me some suggestions, this is a safe space.
> 
> 2\. On the lighter side: I really don't like how I opened this chapter, it feels clunky and awkward to me but with all my rewrites I couldn't find a solution, so if you have an idea, I'd love to hear it! I'm trying to learn how to be a better writer 
> 
> 3\. Thank you all so much for your comments! They were really encouraging and I am excited to get some new stuff out to you all! And again! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking through the painful prose and awful alliteration :-) I love attention so please leave a comment to appease that (good or bad, just keep in mind that I'm a scientist so I have likely broken like  
> uh million writing rules or somethin' like that so keep it constructive and evidence based)
> 
> \-->This fic is high key also just a plug for my secret Shinkane playlist.


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